Being able to accommodate combat casualties requires room, and the Sickbay has it. Beds line each side of the room with privacy curtains strung up and readily available. Large vaulted lockers hold access to the supplies at the far end of the area. Nearer the front, a Petty Officer sits ready to dispense simple items like ibuprofen and aspirin. Further to the rear is an area prepped twenty-four hours a day for emergency surgery. To the side are a set of double doors that lead to the Recovery Ward where patients can recuperate.

Condition Level: 3 — All Clear

Sickbay is finally reopened after the boarding party tore it to shreds, but the place looks very different. The beds are lined up against the far walls, some collapsed to make room, each one attended by a nurse or n=medic. The centre of the room now has a long table and benches for people to sit at, another volunteer there to dispense the usual juice and cookies. The doctors are mulling about, checking on the various patients, and, as the drive goes on anyone who faints or experiences difficulties. Rachel Kildren, a doctor in her mid thirties, seems to be in charge, and as the donors line up she grabs a chair and stands up on it, "All right, people. Thank you all for coming, we really need the blood. Our stores were hit hard in the boarding attack. I want you all to make two lines. Blood types and information are on file already so registration will hopefully be pretty speedy, then we can get you stuck and on to the snacks in no time. Nurses Amble and Hestra are handling registration, so pick a line and go for it now." That seems to be the only instruction given.

Psyche bounds in and skids to a halt, ponytails bouncing a few moments longer after she's gone still to take in the announcement. She nods peers about for one of the aforementioned nurses, then beelines for Nurse Hestra. "Hi!" She beams at the nurse, then waves a hand over her head at her fellow donors. "Line forming here!"

Blue scrubs, the sight that fills so many with such bizarre terror. Stavrian's ID is clipped to his front pocket, and a white longsleeved T-shirt under the scrbs top is unrolled all the way down to his wrists, cuffs half-hiding the wide soma braid he always wears. One of Sickbay's paradoxes. Waiting by one of the gurneys, he scribbles the rest of some chart he was hurrying to get down, flipping it closed and handing it off just as the doors open for the crowds to be let in.

Hawke walks in, arms full of various bits of donation equipment. "A bit low, she says," he mutters, though his look is jovial. "Darn near emergency levels, more like. If anyone volunteers, I would be happy to install spigots. I'll even make sure they don't get in the way of flight sticks!"

Cidra does not bound. There is nothing remotely hopping in the woman's fluid pace as she makes her way into Sickbay. Though she's not far behind Psyche. They were likely coming here from the same Air Cage. She's in her off-duties, arms already bare for needle poking. "Bubbles," she says as she comes up behind the other pilot. "I am most glad to see others of the Wing here. We all must do our part, after all." She waits until Nurse Hestra is done with the blonde before getting herself registered.

"Yeah, Rachel laugh as she passes by Cidra in the line, "You guys use more of it than anyone else, except the Marines." She seems to be counting heads.

Hmm. Hmm. Lunair doesn't bound in either. She lifts her eyebrows at the mention of spigots. "Erm. Fortunately I'm not a maple tree," She considers. Eh heh. She has joined in the line with her other donors. She smiles to anyone in passing. Good ole Lunair, full of meat and blood.

Malone has slipped in as well, looking a little bit lost in though. "The way I'm looking at it, we're leaving some of our blood here for safekeeping," he offers after a few moments of pause.

Less enthusiastically and more dutifully, Madilyn has made her way to sickbay to make her donation. The best way to lead, when it comes to the stabby, needle-y parts like this often seems to be by example. So, here she is, in off-duties, ready to give some blood. Sliding into line - it doesn't matter which - she flips her single ponytail over the back of her shoulders. "Well, doctor, the Marines are here to give back," she comments to Rachel as the woman passes by the forming lines.

Aurola slips in behind Psyche after hearing that a line was forming there, but she arrives just behind Cidra. Her head hanging down as she looks at her feet, lips moving but you'd have to be really close to hear the woman counting her steps. Every fourth step she takes she stops for just a moment, before she starts to walk again. Sure, she might seem weird to anyone else who is looking at her, but she needs to make sure that the floor doesn't collapse or something. Finally stopping once she reaches her place in line she nods her head to everyone who is around her, before saying, "Hello there." She nods her head to everyone, her hands going back behind her back to clasp each other, her left heel still typing the ground in groups of four.

Psyche smiles brightly at Cidra. "I'm all about the ritual exsanguination, ma'am. Especially if there are cookies involved." She spins, ponytails going aloft like propellers, and peers at Hawke. "If I can still fly? Totally fit me with a spigot — so long as it keeps the cookies coming." So, she's… really all about the ritual baked goods. But whatevs.

Viae makes her way in, a bit sheepishly. She's not fond of the sickbay, and the increasing size of the crowd chisels away at her typically chipper demeanor. She's in a fresh pair of off-duties herself, after getting cleaned up. No good to serve up blood mixed with oil and various other mechanical lubricants. She takes up a spot at the end of the line and looks around before saying anything that may need some form of device to remove her foot from her mouth.

Lieutenant Bia is busy in the background, speaking quietly with one of the other assembled doctors over the contents of a clipboard stuffed nearly to bursting. Every few moments her eyes flick up briefly, watching Rachel direct the crush of blood-donors into lines, then return to the clipboard.

Stavrian's eyes flicker from face to face as personnel start lining. Know that one, know that one, don't know that one, know that one. He scratches the back of his left calf with his right foot and lets the logisticians of sickbay sort things, an absent glance down to the tray by his gurney to be sure all the instruments are there. Yep, still there.

Rachel finishes her initial headcount and starts directing people into the two lines, one there, one here, one there, one here. Sure enough, once done, the line gets moving. Two reg desks, 8 beds.

"Ah. Yes. There shall be cookies, I suppose," Cidra notes in response to Psyche. She sounds generally approving of the prospect, if less enthusiastic than the younger pilot. She gets herself registered in relatively short order. Offering the barest hint of a smile to Rachel. "Then it is best we replenish the stores. For our own good." She does not seem uncomfortable. But, then, it's always somewhat hard to pin down what the woman is thinking and feeling. A sidelong look at Aurola as the woman passes. Curious. But she doesn't linger on her long.

Walking over to stand next to Stav, Hawke crosses his arms and shakes his head. "So, how do you reckon we'll get volunteers when the cookies run out? Should we start hoarding caffeine and nicotine now?"

Psyche shakes her head at the nurse taking her info, craning to peer at the screening list of questions. "And I've never had sex with an intravenous drug-using ape in the jungles of Tauron. I think that covers the last five."

Cookies! Lunair lifts her head a bit at that. She smiles a little seeing Stavrian in passing, then spots Madilyn, "Hello sir." A polite smile in turn. She seems to be in decent spirits. "I figure it's probably good to donate, considering I have a habit of being shot in the face," Eh heh. That explains her hair at least. She looks a little sheepish for a second, but the company seems to keep her relatively cheerful. There's a curious look to Aurola as well.

Aurola looks around her as no one responds to her greeting and she frowns faintly before the woman shrugs her shoulders. Her hands still clasped behind her as her left foot taps out that beat, not that she seems to really notice it at all. She still waits for her turn to get asked for things as she walks along, her head twisting to the side a little as it produces an audible crack.

Stavrian sucks his teeth quietly. It might be a sound of amusement, though the PA is as is stingy with smiles as usual. "We have some bright pink band-aids," he suggests, very mildly facetious. "Few jellybeans they sweeped out from under a cabinet. I know, sir, don't get /too/ excited."

Malone pauses a little bit now, as he gets himself registered and all that. Glancing around for a few moments, he grimaces a bit. Not fond of these kinds of places, it seems.

Patient as ever, tempered by the 'joy' of having had two kids (and the frustrations that go along with said 'joy'), Madilyn smiles just a little and nods at Lunair. The lines wouldn't bother her, even if she were at the back. "Sounds reasonable enough to me. Though, I hope that every member of the company gets here at some point today to donate. Or at least schedules an alternate time." When the line moves, she moves, giving name and service number to the nurse to have her medical records pulled up.

Psyche bites her bottom lip and blinks. "Oh, there was that one guy back at Tau Garrison…" She taps her bottom lip with her finger. "I don't think he used drugs, but there's some question in my mind whether he was really evolved, y'know?" She shakes her head slowly as the nurse looks at her flatline. "I guess maybe you don't know…" She eyeshifts, then chirps, "So, we're done, right?" On to the needle!

Viae watches the crowd nervously, not knowing much of anyone, at least facially. She's most likely heard their voices over the comm channels. She makes a note to become more familiar with everyone, at least to the point of recognition. When the line moves, she moves in line with it. She spies Aurola and takes her ticking off of the time as general nervousness. "Are you new to this too?" She asks of the brunette, eyes bright and smile on her face. "It shouldn't be too bad… unless they take too much and we get woozy and then they have to work on us or.." She stops herself from rambling. "Sorry.. That's not much re-assurance, I know."

"I think we are eventually going to have to have a dedicated bed for donations, and just tell people we are always ready for…" Hawke pauses, catching a bit of what Psyche says, then shakes his head. "Ok, I now feel a lot better about my own history with women. At least my species was never in question…"

Cidra answers the questions on the check-sheet about her sexual history, lack of fondness for intravenous drugs and age of her tattoos briskly. She's quite clean to donate, if anyone's terribly curious. Onto be drained she goes. To Stavrian's bedside. "Lieutenant." Her information sheet is handed to him. "I am A-negative, if it's not clearly highlighted there. It's been some time since I had donated but my last physical was clean as you please."

Aurola smiles faintly at Viae as she talks to her, before she shakes her head and replies to Viae, "No, not nervous or my first time. Used to volunteer when they had blood drives at the University I attended in Caprica City. Just making sure that nothing bad happens." She smiles while she stands there, before she adds, "But it was reassuring, lets you know when you want to be sure to take out the needle!"

"Could call that Raptor pilot down, sir," Stavrian says, lips finally twitching. "Evan Doe, do you know him? He could man the exit, give people face paintings as they go." A slight smirk, albeit a fond one. He glances at Psyche, not having caught most of that. Before he can say anything more, there's Cidra. "Major Hahn." A motion to the gurney and he takes her sheet, glancing at it. "Welcome to our humble home, sir. You can even have the last Batman band-aid if you want."

Lunair smiles back at Madilyn, "Hopefully." She waits her turn in line then, preferring /not/ to watch the needles. "Hey, at least they don't have dart guns." That'd be bad. She tries not to giggle at the mental images of medical staff with dart guns hunting across Cerberus. She goes quiet though, looking around. Hmm.

Psyche grins back over her shoulder at Hawke, winking and finger-shooting in his direction. She then turns, waiting with much fidgeting to be called up to a gurney. Her bottom lip is chewed over, her hair is toyed with. She bounces on the balls of her feet, in constant motion.

Cidra lays herself on the gurney, right forearm exposed for Stavrian to poke as he will. Her olive-branch tattoo snakes up the length of it. Her left arm bears a spear-design of similar ink work. A soft snort at what she can overhear of Psyche's chatter. It might be amusement. Just maybe. Then blue eyes go back up to the medic. "I do thank you for the hospitality. I should donate more often. I have gotten out of the habit. My father was a nurse and did try to instill such things in us."

Malone gets through the list of questions and all that, and comes to a stop behind Psyche. "Someone looks nervous…" he remarks, a bit lightly, shaking his head in the process.

Hawke walks over to the bed he will be manning and gestures Psyche over to a gurney. "Come on over, lets get this started, eh?" He then glances at the chart he has been handed. "Ok, I'll note the possible bestiality. Sit back and relax."

"We need this by shift-change," says Bia to the doctor she's standing next to. "Admirals hain't time for excuses." She shares a look with the other doctor before he nods and heads off with the overstuffed clipboard, vanishing at a brisk pace toward the Recovery Bay. Bia then turns her attention to the donor gurneys, heading over to one to check its gear. "Next, please," she calls after finishing her inspection, lifting her chin as she makes eye contact with Lunair.

Fingerstick first. Stavrian picks up the very small apparatus for the minor intrusion on Cidra's finger, fitting it against the tip of the index. "Quick sting for a second, sir," he warns first, giving her just a second before the needle jabs. The collection's seamless, enough dribbled into a small capillary tube. "Your father was a nurse, sir?" His blue eyes flicker up, brow raising with slight curiosity. "RN?" He reaches behind him and sets the tube into the small centrifuge between his gurney station and the next. It spins.

"I hate needles. SO. MUCH." Psyche whispers to Malone, a quick confession before she steels herself for the chopping — poking? — block. She hops up on the gurney indicated by Hawke and sticks out her arm, her free hand covering her eyes with an audible SLAP. "Ow," she says miserably, long before the needle's anywhere near her.

Viae nods to Aurola, not quite understanding what she meant by the 'insurance'. Lots of superstitious people on a boat like this, so it's not anything to make note of. "Oh, that's good. I'm glad someone's done this before." She says, then overhears some of the personal questions being asked. "Oh my.. I'm going to have to give some thought to this.. I mean…" She just leaves it at that, not going further.

"Registered nurse and Brother of Asclepius," Cidra says, a sort of somber pride in her voice. "My brother followed in his footsteps on both counts. The cult takes an active role in many of the hospitals in Gemenon, so it is a path encouraged for many of the devotees. More hands-on with the patients than being a doctor, he used to say." She braces herself when she's needled but takes it stoicly enough. No sniveling or fainting or anything like that.

No bother with her head up. Kai has adeptly fitted herself into the paperwork line without bothering to glance upwards, a schematic in one hand and computer pad in the other. Between the two her attention is caught, but the off-duty Marine is obviously here for the same reason as everyone else: giving blood.

Lunair was in line, pondering the horrors of medics with dart guns. But as she's addressed by Bia, and their eyes meet - Lunair smiles politely and waves. The purple-eyed not people eating Marine of doom wanders over. "Yes, sir," She inches over. That's her! She's a rather friendly patient at least.

Aurola raises an eyebrow before she asks, "Give thought? I don't see why why you'd have to give thought to some of the questions, they're rather rudimentary, and… unless you're going to lie the answers should be right there." Her eyebrows knitting before she asks, "You're not going to lie, are you?"

Rachel is merely milling about, going from one to another, checking vitals and charts. She seems to keeping track of how much of each type they are getting, watching the numbers tick up in some columns. She shakes her head after a moment.

The centrifuge beeps behind Stavrian, and he glances at the hematocrit number showing. Satisfactory, joy. Pulling that tube out and discarding it into the right bin, he picks up the blood pressure cuff on his little table. Listening to Cidra while he gets the black cuff wrapped around her upper arm, the slight draw of his dark brows interested rather than troubled. "I had never learned much about…general medical practice on Gemenon, sir. There's always the stereotypes, but you know." He's Sagittarian, he's well-acquainted with how messed up stereotypes can get. "Were the hospitals owned by the cults?"

Malone nods a bit as he hears that confession from Psyche, then waits in quiet for his turn. He relaxes a bit as he watches the people that's been giving the blood so far.

Hawke sits next to the gurney, swabbing the site with skin treatment as he readies the needles. "Not a fan of the sticky part, eh? Well, deep breaths, all you are going to feel is a minor pinch." He puts the needle in place, quickly and easily sliding it through the skin into the vein, before covering the sight with a paper napkin. "Ok, worst part is over." he places a rubber grip in her hand. "Steady squeezes, once every five seconds or so." Activating the centrifuge the line is going into, he turns to Psyche and smiles. "Sounds like you have dated some prizes."

"Get you comfortable over here and we'll have you over to the cookies before you know it," says Bia to Lunair in her lazy drawl, directing the Marine toward the cot after taking her form from her. Long-fingered hands move in a practiced, unhurried routine through the pre-needle rituals.

Cidra tries to relax, though her blood pressure isn't what you'd call low. Still well within donation guidelines. But her life isn't exactly stress-free. "Some of the hospitals are cult-run. My father and brother worked at such," she replies. "There are public hospitals as well, of course. Not so different than on any other colony, though they are still subject to the local laws. But the people sometimes prefer to seek treatment with more religious guidance. There is mistrust in Outside morality back home. Or was, I suppose I should say." She sighs, eyes focusing up to the ceiling rather than at Stavrian.

The cookies are out on the table, the juice just being poured as the first patient is being let off. Rachel heads over to sit down and start asking questions, making sure that they are not about to faint or anything.

Viae sends Aurola a look of shock. "Lie? Goodness, no! I just mean…" She blushes as she makes her way to the nurse. "Specialist Mercer, Viae." she says, and the nurse pulls up her records and begins to ask questions. "I've been single and celibate for about two years now. No drug use, no tattoos. Yes, I'm no fun." She adds in summary. She blushes to Aurola once again. "See?" She says as she moves along, getting in line to be 'served'.

Psyche says, "OwowowowowowowowOWOWow…!" alllll the way until the actual puncture, at which point she peels open one eye and peers between her fingers. "Oh, wow…" There's a needle in her arm and a squeezy thing in her hand. "Really? Okay." This she can do. She lays back and takes some deep breaths, looking far calmer now. "Shia," she snorts, agreeing about previous boyfriends. "Well, I was at Tau G for three years. Kind of slim pickings. DON'T tell Lasher I said that." She pauses. "No, wait. He'd own it."

"Sure thing," Lunair smiles up at Bia. She doesn't seem /too/ nervous, or she's really good at masking it. Lunair's form reads: 1 (One) standard issue Marine Lieutenant JG and all her important info. Seems healthy enough, no major diseases. Odd eye color and a bit sensitive to sun. She pauses, "I don't think I ever got your name though." She considers, taking her spot in the cot and blinks at Psyche hearing it now. Erp. That's not reassuring. "Um."

Rachel finally gets up to step in, relieving one of the nurses and getting read for the next patient, pulling her gloves on.

Stavrian squeezes the cuff bulb, black ring inflating as he watches the gauge. Poor Cidra. He does note that elevated number, a mental post-it stuck somewhere in his head. The cuff's left inflated, and he picks up the disinfectant swabs, cleaning off her arm over the vein that's now standing prettily up. Cidra's story gets a nod or two, quite understanding of that. "And you, sir?" He asks, with caution at the upcoming personal question. "I know many on Gemenon follow their father's footsteps…but you went to piloting." A non-question. Sort of. Ish. Done with the swab, that's thrown away and he picks up the needle.

Bia wipes the seam of Lunair's elbow with the chilly-seeming swab, then readies the needle and its accoutrements down to the side where they're out of line of sight. "Gracious Bia," she says to Lunair, "but 'Grace' works just fine." She makes a small adjustment to the gear before leaning forward. "Just a pinch. There we go." The needle's slipped in between one sentence and the next, coffee-coloured eyes lifting back to Lunair's face once it's done. "I sure appreciate you taking the time to help us out like this."

Aurola smiles faintly at Viae before she replies, "Eh, more fun then I've had, I think. Though, its not quite sure whether or not we'd call the same thing fun or not." As Viae slide out, Aurola slides into the seat before she looks at the nurse and replies, "Doctor Aurola Essenaro, have been single for about… two months now, I think. Haven't had intercourse in about a year. No tattoos or drugs for me." She smiles at the nurse, an easy almost reassuring smile as she works on straightening out her clothes before she stands up to move beside Viae and wait for her turn.

Doc Hawke just smiles at her as she panics up until the actual moment of pain. "You keep that crooning up, you're gonna have to become a regular giver for having scared the others away." His smile takes the sting out of the words, though. "Tau G, eh? Could be worse. You could end up with some pilot. I hear that they're insufferable." He glances over at the collector. "You're doing great, take it easy, your blood will pump on its own…"

Viae smiles and nods to Aurola. "Doctor? but… you're not…" She gestures around the room, and then the intelligence forms in her brain at some point. "Oh! You're not a medical doctor. What're you into, then?" She asks, and blinks. "I mean, a doctor of. That is, if it's not something classified."

Happily, Lunair's not been active in the frakking department, tattoo-less and all that jazz. Well, perhaps not so happy when it's not just one's uniform that's blue. Brrr, chilly swab. Lunair looks to Bia and smiles, "That's pretty. Grace," She echoes quietly. There's a brief flinch at the pinch. "It's nothing. I probably owe you guys for the time I got myself shot up anyway," A bemused, almost sad grin.

The glint of the needle in the light marks out Rachel's first victim, and she uses it to carefully poke the inner arm of her patient, sliding it in and then taping down a bandage overtop. "So, tell me, where are you from?"

"I followed an alternate path of service," Cidra replies, eyes still on the ceiling. "My father was most understanding. My mother… well. She had other ideas as to what my path should be. I had originally studied to enter the order of Athena." Not hard to guess, really, given the goddess-themed tatts currently on display on her arms and shoulders. "I suppose you could say I heard a calling, and it did not lie in seminary. And you, Lieutenant? This is not common service for those of your world, either." Also something of a non-question.

Psyche opens her eyes and just… glances at Hawke. "Yeah. Pilots," she agrees. "Bunch of swaggering idiots. They say taking the stick is kind of like being on the pole, right? Fallback for the troggy bottom feeders who're good at video games and bad at life." She arches an eyebrow at the good doctor taking her blood.

"Hain't nothing at all, child. Things as they're going, it's a precious thing for you to take the time like this." Bia has a mother's smile, warm and a little crinkly around the edges of her eyes, and seems as proud as can be with Lunair. "Nearly done. Make a fist for me, slow, five times, if'n you could?"

Aurola looks over at Viae before she replies, "I have my Doctorate in astrophysics. So, I guess you could say I'm a doctor of astrophysics." She grins as she stands there, her hands still behind her back as her foot taps gently against the decking. "So what about yourself? What do you do around here?"

When Bootstrap arrives, it is after a post-CAP shower, for he is considerate enough to not show up at Sickbay stinking of sweat and first-cigarette-after-4-hours-in-a-Raptor smoke. He doesn't even smell of post-shower cigarette smoke. That'll come after donating blood and before the 8-hour shift he'll be spending analyzing some Heavy Raider innards. With a cursory glance, he determines the logistics and ambles towards nurse Amble. "Hey, there," he flickers a smile. "Trask. T-r-a-s-k. Kal. K-a-l. JiG. Air Wing." Upon completing the intake, he's informed to pick a line. Immediately espying Stavrian, he opts to let the PA-C have the bloodsucking honor, and subsequently loiters at the end of that line.

Malone looks lost in thought at the moment, waiting patiently for now. Not paying much attention to the conversations going on around the room, he keeps his attention on the far wall, for the moment.

Hawke laughs, and gets ready to remove the needle as she starts nearing her donation goal. "Don't know about all of that. I have dated a pilot or two in my life and always could claim to enjoy the experience. They're actually quite a bit like surgeons, I have noticed, in general attitude." He glances over again. "As for the pole, I'd have to take your word for it. Though, if you wished to offer an example…" he holds her eyes for a moment, then laughs and looks back to the collector. "Ok, a few more squeezes, and it is cookie time. Ready to get the needle out?"

If Stavrian has any tattoos himself, they're shrouded under the long-sleeved T-shirt, scrubs top, and the loose blue pants. Much like the soma braid, the outline of which is barely visible at his cuff. "Feel another sting here in a moment, sir." Thus warned, he sets his fingers on Cidra's arm, talking over the procedure. "I can understand that, Major. The stars incline; they do not determine." The needle's gone in as he's speaking, his soft-spoken voice trying to cover the the other sense being assaulted. "And no, it isn't common service. It's difficult to explain. Do you know what an anastomosis is, in the human body?"

Viae nods as she speak to Aurola, waiting her turn. "Oh that's cool. A Space Doctor…!" She says, trying to make it sound both cool and ominous at the same time, in reality just sounding like a dork. "Me? Well, I handle the comm systems for Tactical.. I'm basically a glorified operator." She says.. "And in my free time I try to cheer people up." For instance, she moves over to Malone. "Which reminds me, are you feeling any better?" She asks the pilot.

Cidra is stretched out on a gurney, Stavrian serving as her vampire while she donates. A somber shadow has crossed her face and she closes her eyes. As if to relax more. It also gives her opportunity to smooth any edges of emotion from her face. A small shake of her head at Stavrian's question. "Anastomosis?" She repeats the word, accent wrapping in a drawling sort of way around all the s-sounds. "I cannot say I have, Lieutenant. As I said, my path did not include much in the way of medical studies."

Well, at least Hawke's opinion of pilots passes the muster — Psyche grins at his suggestion of a dance demonstration, but her tone's bone dry. "Such. A charmer. Are you sure you were never stationed at Tau?" She nods and doesn't seem NEARLY as squicked by the needle coming out as she had been by it going in. "Totally. Let me off this contraption and at the cookies, plis-kay-thanx."

Aw. It's hard not to smile at Bia. Lunair is warming up to the Lieutenant. She tilts her head. "I'm glad to. And sure." Obediently, Lunair curls her fingers into a fist slowly a few times. She has to remember to breathe though, dork. She hms softly, "You're very kind about this though." Beam. "Oh, what kind of cookies?"

Malone pauses a bit as he hears someone speak, "Hmmm?" he asks, turning to look at Viae now. Offering a half-smile.

Aurola snickers faintly before she says, "Well, sounds like fun at least, right?" She grins at Viae as she heads off, her foot tapping still as she waits. Frowning faintly as she tries to think of something else to say.

"A man has to keep his secrets." Hawke says, then clamps off the cord and pulls the needle, quickly covering it with a bandage. "Hold your arm straight up for a minute." He then starts cleaning stuff up, getting ready for the next donation. "How are you feeling? How's your head?"

Stavrian tapes the needle down on her arm, leaning down to open the vent into the container holding Cidra's bag. "It's a connection between vessels…two structures, like two arteries or two veins. Often times we use it to describe in evolutionary terms how species branch out and then recombine, where a new species emerges from symbiosis." Vent done with, he lowers the tubing line and lets gravity get to work. "It's sort of how I feel about our medicine and the medicine they practice here. That there is a point of symbiosis somewhere, it just needs to be found."

As Viae exclaims something space doctors, Trask's attention is drawn that direction. "Mercer," the ECO casually greets with a tilt of his chin. The pilot she's attempting to engage in conversation gets a similar greeting, except he's addressed as, "Splash."

Viae tilts her head questioningly at Malone, not quite understanding why he couldn't hear her. "The other day, in obs, you were kinda bummed about having to be SAR'ed often. Are you feeling any better?" She asks, not quite the ship's counselor, but she does what she can in her own way. Upon hearing Trask's greeting, she stands a bit straighter, a bright smile on her face. "Evening, Lieutenant. It's so nice that you could come down and help." She says, positively.

"Don't serve anyone well to make a kindness like this into a misery, does it?" muses Bia to Lunair. "I've seen some folks mighty uneasy at needles in my time. I do appreciate you not being one of them. Perfect. Relax your hand. Just a pinch, now. There." Again, she slips the needle out almost mid-sentence, looking back to Lunair's face when she's done. "We've got tea-dippers and chocolate chip, and ought to be plenty of both by the time you get there." A cotton ball is held over the needle-mark with a bandaid, and she sits back to give Lunair room to stand. "That's all there's to it. Easy standing, now."

Psyche tilts her head, eyes peering up a bit in thought, as though she were actually trying to get a look at her noggin. "Meh. Maybe a little woozy. Not enough to keep me from the cookies, mind you." She wriggles and looks about to bounce down from the gurney. "I'm all done?"

Rachel's patient gets up, leaving room another and she looks around to see if anyone is still in line, changing her gloves in between patients. She waves Malone over.

"You have found a bridge within the paths of life, Lieutenant, to yours and things Off-World," Cidra says softly. A sort of admiration there, and understanding. "I have sought the same. It was not always seen as such by my countrymen back on Gemenon, of course. But I do try to serve the goddess in my way. 'Blessed and fierce, who joyest in caves to rove, O, warlike Pallas, whose illustrious kind, ineffable and effable we find. Magnanimous and famed, the rocky height, And groves, and shady mountains thee delight. In arms rejoicing, who with Furies dire. And wild, the souls of mortals dost inspire.'" The hymn rolls off her tongue as easily as if she were reading it straight from Scripture. The passage obviously one inscribed upon her mind. Eyes still closed.

Hawke nods, examining the puncture for a second before affixing a bandage and offering his arm. "Sure, let me just help you over to the table. I'd really rather not have to treat a head injury. It would really slow down the blood drive, you know."

Malone nods a little bit, "Oh, that," he replies after a few moments of pause. "Feeling better now, yes." He then looks over at Trask, offering the man a bit of a nod. "Bootstrap," he offers in greeting to the man, before he sees that he's being waved over. "Okay, time to do this," he mutters to himself, heading over in the indicated direction.

"That's true," But it's still something Lunair notices. "Ah, you're not trying to set me on fire or toss me in a well." She smiles at Bia. "I am glad to help," She nods. She squirms a little after the needle is out. Ooooh. Tea dippers and chocolate chip. Her eyes widen. "Really, both? Wow, that's going to be a tough choice," She smiles at Bia. She tries to stand slowly, but alas. Slow is not so much! She weebles a moment, before moving away from the cot. "Nice to meet you sir, be well." Nodnod. To the cookies!

"Dr. Kildren, and I will be the cause of your suffering today," Rachel tells Malone by way of introduction, though despite the dry tone there is a glint of humour in her eyes as she looks up from his chart. "Arm please, whichever you prefer."

Having been standing in line silently, patiently waiting her turn, Madilyn steps forward as Malone is called forward. She's not particularly chatty, but that's not so say she isn't personable. She'd much rather listen than chat. Each person in line behind her is, of course, examined, and given a nod whether she knows them or not.

"Oh, fine. Be all reasonable and stuff," Psyche rolls her eyes and pffts as she allows Hawke to assist her to the cookie table. She reaches the refreshments about the same time as Lunair, resultantly, and waves to the Marines officer. "Hi there!" she chirps, snagging a cookie and cramming most of it into her mouth. Om-nom-nom COOKIE! She blinks a few times, then exclaims with her mouth partially full, "Holy crow, you have the prettiest eyes!" She covers her mouth a little, apologetically.

Malone nods a little as he hears that, "Pleasure to meet you, Doctor. Figured you folks down here could take some of the blood for safekeeping, you know." Said a bit lightly as he holds out his right arm now.

Aurola watches while she stands there, having fallen silent as Viae move on without her. Sure, she probably should go introduce herself, but she doesn't. Her foot still tapping out a rhythm on the decking. Tap-tap-tap-tap, pause, tap-tap-tap-tap.

"So say we all, sir," Stavrian says, under his breath. Her draining is going, and he checks the container on the ground every so often. Wouldn't do to deflate the CAG, after all. "Nearly done. Do you normally find you get dizzy after donations, Major?"

Bia takes a few moments to reset the gurney for its next donor, swabbing down what needs to be swabbed and helping the nurse swap over the packet of Lunair's precious essence for safe storage. She sweeps another look around the room, stretching her arms out in front of her, before raising her voice slightly and calling, "Next, please." This time, her eyes meet Madilyn's and beckon her over with a silent nod.

Hawke smiles as she attacks the cookies. "Just remember, other folks need 'em too. Take care, Psyche." He then walks back to his table and gestures to Aurola, indicating the now open gurney. "Next!"

Cidra blinks, eyes opening again. Gaze still fixed on the ceiling, though there's still that faintly abstracted quality about her mood as she lies there. "Not intolerably," is her reply to Stavrian's medical question. "I am not a small girl, Lieutenant. But I shall make certain to sit and partake in your fine refreshments."

A jaunty, two-fingered, scout-style salute is tossed to the departing Malone. Viae gets a mock-chiding, "At ease, Specialist." As to her comment about donating blood, Trask lets off a mild shrug and a lazy smirk. "I figure since I run the risk of exsanguination, I might as well bleed out in a manner where it hopefully can be put back in later."

Madilyn catches the doc's eyes and nod, and she finally steps forward out of line to the prepped gurney. "Hello Doc," Madilyn says pleasantly. No hesitation at all as she hops up onto the gurney, and holds out her left arm. "I don't mind if I bruise on this arm, but hopefully, it won't come to that," she says with a bit of a smirk.

At least it's not Communist pre-verts taking her precious essence, right? Lunair is happily in her own little world pondering cookies when - lo! A Psyche appears. Lunair smiles and pauses, blinking owlishly. She smiles again. "Oh. I'm glad you think so. That's very kind of you to say." Nodnod. She seems a bit surprised, but pleasantly so. Eventually she settles on a tea-dipper cookie. "I don't know if we've met before?" She seems to nibble her cookie around the edges more than chomp into it.

Viae waves at Malone's retreating form. "Good luck!" She says, by way of encouragement. She looks back to Aurola. "What're you doing over there?" She asks the young intellectual. She doesn't reach out to touch anyone, since she's not sure about anyone's comfort level, and mostly because she doesn't want any repercussions from Trask. She starts to introduce the woman but is interrupted as she's swept away. "Oh, well, Lieutenant. Hmm. Well, that young woman's a space doctor." She smiles at Trask's explanation. "I believe your sentiments echo those of the Major's as well." She nods in Cidra's direction.

Aurola looks at Hawke as he beckings her over and she nods her head as she begins walking towards him, her tapping turning into her step count as she takes four steps before pausing, and then continuing on towards the gurney, "Hi there," she greets with a smile.

Heels make a rhythmic click on the deck as Sawyer waltzes in, her sensible pumps a bit less sensible on a Battlestar but some habits die hard. The journalist has a camera hanging around her neck that is a veritable antique, still requiring a film and hand winding. Consider it another habit. Before she's even three feet in the hatch, she's lifting the viewfinder to her eye and snapping off a quick picture after a practiced twist on the lens to get it to focus. The bright flash illuminates the room even more so, without so much as giving folks a chance to say 'CHEESE'.

'Well we do tend to go through a lot of it, even when it isn't being shot up. I saw the firefight actually, then the stores afterward. Man that was a lot of cross contamination," Rachel answers as the blood steadily drips from Malone's arm into a collection bag. "And never know when we'll need it, but we can store plenty of it at once."

"At least the juice if nothing else, sir." Stavrian's lips twitch a little, whether Cidra's looking at him or not. "Brings the blood volume back up, and your blood volume is very important to me." This last part of the line is delivered deadpan, in a facetiously informercial sort of way. He looks down again and leans over the container, stopping the tube's draining. The end of it's lifted and carefully disconnected from the back of syringe, a small vacutainer tube slid in for a minute to catch the last little bit.

Psyche cheerfully shakes her head and offers her hand to Lunair. "I'm Psyche. Bubbles, to the air-wing. And… well. Y'know. Anyone else who feels like calling me 'Bubbles.'" She doesn't go for seconds on the cookies, rather nurses the tiny bit that's left of her first. Nibble, nibble. She's a good girl, she is. "Half my sorority sisters wore contacts that color, but it never looked natural. I'm assuming yours are, and if not I must have the name of your optometrist." Someone who probably isn't in business anymore, unless they're on this ship — looks like someone's in a little bit of holocaust denial.

Malone nods a little as he hears that, "Accidents do happen," he offers, before glancing around the room for a few moments, "Looks like a decent crown, all things considered," he offers, after a brief pause.

Rachel looks up from her patient and grins, "Yeah, yeah it is. i'm kind of surprised how many turned out." Her smile though says it's a hopeful kind of surprise.

Cidra rolls herself up into a standing position once Stavrian's properly done with her, swings her legs over the gurney to steady herself, then stands. She is a tall thing. She tops Stavrian by a good inch. "I shall endeavor to keep my volume intact for you, Lieutenant." Said dryly in the same deadpan. "I thank you. That was most painless. I do hope Asclepius shall watch over you and yours in this place."

"Major. It sure is a pleasure to see you here to help us out." There's a little less of a motherly tone as Bia addresses Madilyn, but the warmth remains. Her hands move in the same practiced and unhurried routine, wiping down the Marine CO's arm with the shivery swab before she turns to prepare the needle. Again it's done at a lowered, hard-to-see height. "Hain't bruised an arm takin' blood in years, and I hope not to start again with you. Just a pinch, there." The needle's slipped in and Bia watches Madilyn's face for a moment before turning her attention to the rigging. "We sent two more of your babies back to you this morning, didn't we?

Trask may like to bust the occasional chop, but he's also fairly flippant. Just ask his CAG… or anyone who knows him, really. Speaking of the Major, Viae points out that Cidra is here. "Toast," he chirps. "Were you aware that there's a space doctor here? Maybe she can inoculate us against Raiders." See? Flippant.

Hawke is getting to work setting stuff up when he looks up to give his newest patient a smile. Just then, his eyes blink a few times. "Wait… I think I may know you. Caprica… the wine and cheese research circuit. Dr… Dr… Essenarous, correct? I am Doctor Abram Hawke… I think we were introduced at least once or twice."

After a moment, the hand is carefully accepted. Lunair smiles. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Raine Lunair. Lu or Lun is fine to most. Of the Marines," Nod. She's slowly wearing that poor dipping cookie down. At the comment about her eyes and contacts, Lunair shakes her head. "I'm afraid I was born with these. They have gotten better and better with contacts though, but I think depending on how your eyes start - it limits your range," She considers. "I sunburn easily though so I wonder if it has to do with that," A slight shrug. "Besides- people usually think I'm a witch or trying to lay the evil eye on them," She comments. "I think - blue eyes are pretty," Nod. "They shine beside your blonde hair."

Sawyer walks further into sickbay, her thumb pulling a toggle to set her film up for her next photo opportunity, shooting a nurse a smile that's as bright as the flash bulb. The camera is left to hang around her neck by the strap laden with her credentials and clearances, at least long enough to free up her hands to take and fill out her information on a clipboard so she can donate. One of the questions make her snerk audibly, but she continues checking off boxes and filling out pertinent information.

Stavrian is not a tall man by most standards, falling quite snugly into the 'average' height range. "And Lady Athena guide your path, sir. Good luck out there and all those piloty things. Drink your juice." He gets that in there. Because this is the ONE TIME EVER that a JG will get to tell a Major what to do, damned if he'll miss out.

Viae raises an eyebrow at Trask's joke, not quite getting it at first. She then follows with an "Oh" and a blush and she looks around, waiting for her name to be called.

Malone nods a little as he hears that. Glancing around for a few moments, he then focuses back to the doctor. Staying silent for the moment.

The blood moves swiftly through Malone apparently and the bag is filling rapidly enough as Rachel watches it before asking, "So where do, or rather did, you call home?"

Aurola looks at Hawke, her eyebrows knitting together before she nods her head. "Um," she gathers her thoughts for a moment before saying, "Ahhh, right! I remember you now. Fancy seeing you here." She grins before replying, "As I recall, we were introduced, but, can't for the life of me remember a lot of it. So much has happened lately."

When the needle enters, there's a tiny, teeny, microscopic little flinch on Madilyn's face, where the corners of her mouth pull up a little bit. Almost nonexistent really. Did she even flinch? Really let's just round down and say no. "Doctor, if you were capable of doing that, literally, I'd probably be the happiest woman in the universe. Sadly, that's not possible…at least by my understanding of modern medical technology." A pained little smile plays on Madilyn's lips then, for a moment before she looks back to the doctor, bringing her blue gaze to bear. "But in reality, yes, you did. Had to drop them on the duty roster last night, make light-duty spots for them until they're back to one-hundred percent."

Psyche aww-gawrsh-beams at Lunair. "That's so sweet of you! Thank you! You're a Marine? That's fantastic! I'd never have guessed it — you look really classy." She pauses in a nibble and eyeshifts, perhaps checking that she's not going to get her ass kicked by less-than-classy grunts for the observation. "I mean. You know. It's neat to look classy and kick ass. Kind of like that model-turned-actress chick in all the Inhabitant Evil zombie vids?"

Hawke grins as he sets her up. "Either one of your lectures or one of mine, raising funds for the hospital. And depending on who was throwing the party, I may have made a poor impression. The ones on East Side always served more alcohol than was wise for a surgeon to drink." He gets his kit ready. "So which arm, and we'll get started?"

Malone grimaces a little bit at that question. "Libran," he replies, after a few moments of pause. "My family was running one of the banks there." Pausing for a few moments, before he looks back to Rachel, "What about you?"

Sawyer gets in the queue to give her donation, biding her time and settling her own nerves by continuing her rather loosely defined job as ship's historian. Her camera lifts just in time to snick off a photograph of Madilyn's near almost not quite but still a flinch. Photographic proof is a bitch sometimes, and the reporter seems content to be taking candids.

Cidra offers Stavrian a slightly warmer smile as she leaves him to his vampire work. She goes to get some juice. Head turning at her callsign. To Trask. "Bootstrap. I am most glad to see yet more of the Wing here." Smile turns to faintest of smirks at the rest of his comment. "Oh that it were so easy, I would wish the world inoculated against all things toaster. As it is, we muddle through."

Aurola puts her left arm forward while she sits there, before she says, "Undoubtedly it was one of yours. I wasn't even out of school with my Doctorate for five years before this happened, and about as soon as I was out my parents retired and left me with the company. That has to be one good thing of late, no more tedious board meeting to go through. That had to be a major downside of being the CEO."

"Well… I have a lot to learn about being a better one," Lunair admits quietly. "I'm - passable I guess," She rubs the back of her head and blushes. "T-thank you. You're very very kind to say so," She seems briefly surprised by this. "Hmmm. That was a fun series to watch, though sometimes cheesy movies are fun too." Nodnod. "But I think you are describing yourself far more than me. You're very kind. And flying's kind of scary it seems," She considers. "Or maybe I just get dizzy in the sims," She holds up a hand. Ehehe. "I wish my hair were as bright as the suns themselves," She tilts her head. She's trying at least. Goof.

"All a bunch of physicians. I was born on Aerilon, so I guess you could say I'm from there, but we lived all over, wherever they were opening a new hospital and Dad felt the call. I think my parents were just restless," Rachel answers as the bag is finished and she withdraws the needle from his arm, applying pressure to the wound site and taping it off.

"They were some eager to be free of us, I'll tell you true." Bia's eyes crinkle at the edges again, warm and a little rueful. There's something on Madilyn's chart that she looks away to, double-checking against the rigging before her attention returns. "My babies were staying with my sister until this tour was over, but, well." What can even be said? A sad sort of kinship with the Marine CO is all she can really offer. "Didn't mean to touch on fresh hurts, Major. I do apologize. Could you make a fist for me, slow, five times?"

Hawke nods as he swabs the spot. "I had to spend some time advising a board, and I could always beg off meetings if I had a surgery to do. I tended to schedule the surgeries for meeting days." he smiles at her. "Ok, there will be a slight pinch, and…" the needle slides in. "There we are."

A blushin' young'un. Aww. How cute. Trask is amused, anyway. Impish as he is, he smiles at Viae like a cat poised to eat the proverbial cream. "Permission to be a bit less at-ease granted, Mercer. Although, really, that is a fairly fetching shade of red for your face." And then there's the CAG, but the only shift in his demeanor is a brief nod of his head as a showing of respect. "I fear we're all gonna be listed as 'Cause of Death: Lead Poisoning'." That said, "Major Cidra Hahn, if I may present Specialist Viae Mercer. Not the space doctor, alas, but she's comms and good peoples, so we like her anyway. Specialist Mercer, Major Hahn. Yanno, in case neither of you were aware or whatever."

Malone nods a little bit, "So you've seen most of the Colonies, then?" he asks, after a few moments of considering.

"Of course, Lieutenant," Madilyn says, with a nod. Slowly, she wraps and unwraps her fingers into a clenched fist at the doctor's instruction. "Mine…two…they were with their father. There was no better place, clearly, but sometimes…" she starts, before setting her jaw and taking a single, deep breath, in lieu of letting her eyes water…too much. "Do you ever feel guilty Lieutenant? That your children are survived by you. That feeling that you could've…should've been there yourself?"

Aurola nods her head while she sits there, seeming to be completely at ease as the needles slide in, but she had given blood more than a couple times and was pretty well used to it. "Lucky you, I didn't even have an excuse. But, eh, it worked out I suppose. Managed to make sure that our company stayed afloat and was on the cutting edge of weapons technology," Aurola replies.

"Nah, it's not really that scary once you know what you're doing, y'know?" Psyche tells Lu, brightly. The finds herself with no more cookie, so goes for the crumbs on her fingertips. Le sigh. Sad and cookieless, it brings on a somber half-moment. "The fighting's scary," she admits. "Not right when you're doing it, because you don't have time to think. But after…" She looks blankly at her hand a moment, then blinks and snaps out of it with an almost physical jerk. "But in general, it's like driving a car. Second nature. Not so brave." She shakes her head. Back to chartering the mutual admiration society — frak this introspective stuff. "Your coloring's so dramatic, though. Blonde and blue eyes is so average. I think we only had one brunette in Delta Nu."

"Four I've lived on, three others I've visited, so seven of thirteen? I guess that makes it a majority," Rachel laughs, "Now just five minutes of waiting and you can get up. What brought you to the military?"

Viae finds it a bit difficult to be at-ease and standing in front of both the Lieutenant and the CAG. Why don't they just throw in Tillman and the Admiral while they're at it? She stops herself from responding to Trask's comment about her shade. "It's an honor and a priviledge, Major. I've heard you on the radio but this is the first time I've seen you face-to-face." She smiles. "And I believe the toaster inoculation is what we're out here for." She says, in a burst of patriotism. "Lead poisoning? Hopefully not from the needles?" She says with a smile.

Cidra sips at her juice. Following the good medic's orders. She's a compliant patient generally. The barest hint of a smile at Viae and an inclination of her head to the younger woman. "I was not aware, I admit to my shame. Though you do look familiar, Specialist. You work in CIC, yes?" Her manner is not terribly formal. Standing their in her off-duties and recently drained as she is. "You do good work, there I am sure. Do give Major Tillman my best on your next shift. We served together on his last post, the Aegean, briefly. Seems like an age and a half ago now." Still a little wistful. Sad nostalgia comes with blood loss. Lips crook toward smirk again at Trask. "I think Bootstrap was being somewhat grimmer than lead poisoning through needles. But. We all still live now. And we go on. That is the important thing."

Hawke turns and watches as the blood starts flowing, and the centrifuge gets busy collecting it. "Very good. Just relax, squeeze this ball about once avery ten seconds or so." He then sits back and looks at her. "Ahhh, yes. Weapons manufacturing. Feel a bit odd about that now. As a Hospital Surgeon, I didn't know whether to hate your company or feel it kept me in business. Now I'm here, I figure a military doc should be grateful if his men have bigger guns than those they fight…"

"That would make it a majority, yes," Malone replies, with a bit of a grin, before he shrugs very lightly at the question. "Partially an old dream, partially that I felt I needed more experience with people and life, before going for the law career."

Aurola squeezes the ball as she sits there as she was told to, eyes looking over at Hawke before she smirks lightly and replies, "Well, usually when push comes to shove people are glad they have the bigger stick. But even then…" She shrugs her shoulders as she look towards the ceiling, "We obviously didn't do our job well enough."

"Bullets," Bootstrap blithely explains to Viae. Then Cidra mentions the Aegean. "Those were good times. I'm not sure I ever told you how happy I was to discover you were my new boss lady, Toast. An' yeah. Mercer here does good work." Genuine, that, even if casually relayed. "The XO was nice enough to send her to me for a bit of abuse." AKA, be a part of his research team.

Hmm. "I suppose so," Lunair smiles as she listens. She nods, "I never really drove." She seems curious but never really needed to or had the opportunity. She won't pry much more on the flying business then. Ehehe. A deep blush. "Dramatic?" She rubs the back of her head, "I- I guess that's one way to put it," She smiles. "And what do you mean average? I think blonde is actually recessive compared to brunettes or black hair," She notes. "But it depends on where you go." Nod. She's still blushing madly. "I appreciate your kind words, though. Still- you're really pretty. I suspect the average is tilted on the Cerberus. There's a lot of really pretty girls on this ship. Good for PR, but I have no idea why /I/ am here. I think I just won a lotto or something," Shrug. "And besides, you're kind and modest about it. It doesn't matter what hair color you have if you're mean I think," She taps her chin.

"If they couldn't be with both of you, hain't a better place for them to be but with their daddy." Bia's expression is a little wry, her smile fond and sad at once. "My Remy passed five years ago, or they would've been putting more grey to his hair right up 'til the minute they weren't. Way I see it? Just a pinch, here. Perfect." The needle's slipped out, a cottonball pressed immediately to the spot and held there with long, work-seamed fingers. "Regret and second-guessing eats our souls out like termites, and never changed a thing. I thought it needed done at the time, and that's what I cleave to, now." She tapes a band-aid over the cottonball, and moves back to leave Madilyn room to stand. "Easy standing, now."

The CAG sipping on juice, a bandage in the crook of her arm from her recent donation, chatting idly with a Specialist and a Lieutenant. If that isn't a Kodak moment, Sawyer doesn't know what is and she should immediately retire from her chosen profession. "Major Hahn, one for the history books?" And before she can refuse, Sawyer's snapping off a photo of the CAG.

"Oh you were on your way to being a lawyer then?" Rachel answers brightly. "Maybe you'll still get the chance, who knows, must need people who can read the fine print out here, even if it's just for the army regs." She then takes Malone's arm and beds and unbends it before checking the bandage. "Personally I just felt as restless as my parents and this seemed a good way to get around."

"The biggest guns in the world don't help when the other side can drop nukes on you with no warning," Hawke says, waving the comment off. "So what are you doing with your time, now that you have been freed from board meetings?" He keeps an eye on the collector, making sure not to draw too much.

"Still shows nothing but a problem. They shouldn't be able to just drop them on us like that," Aurola replies while she sits there, before answering the new question, "At the moment? Just helping where I can really. Not a whole lot I can do at this time, till someone needs me, I guess."

Viae nods. "I was working the comms in CIC for a bit, yes. I'll make sure I relay that message the next time I see the XO." At the correction and grimness of Trask's meaning, Viae frowns slightly. "Oh… I see… Sorry." She then nods in agreement with Cidra. "Yes. We live… and each day we live is yet another thorn in the side of those who wish us exterminated." She blushes at Trask's appraisal of her skills. "Thank you, Lieutenant. I just hope that my work bears fruit." The flash from Sawyer's camera catches Mercer off guard, and she rightly looks like a deer caught in headlights, bright greens a bit wonked out from being blinded by the flash..

Malone nods a little bit, "Perhaps I will." A brief pause, before he adds, "But the most important thing right now is survival, right?" He offers a quiet smile at that part about being restless, "Once in a while, being restless could be a good thing, I guess," he offers.

Cidra is intent enough on Trask and Viae that her warning hackles do not even rise at the presence of the media. She /is/ getting old. Still, her only reaction to being photographed is a vaguely surprised blink. If she minds terribly, well, such reactions are kept hidden. "Miss Averies. Making the rounds yourself, I see." Dry, but her manner toward the reporter is not unfriendly. "As I believe Bootstrap noted before, it does seem prudent to keep a supply of my blood in the bank as we fly, for my own good and the ship's." Back to Viae, she inclines her head again. "You do important work, Specialist. I wish you good fortune and many blessings upon its success."

"You mean like right about now? You're free to go, cookies and juice even," Rachel answers with a laugh, stepping out of Malone's way.

Psyche nods emphatically. "Oh, absolutely. Mean people suck," she says to Lunair, sipping a bit of juice. "We never let mean girls into Delta Nu. At least not while I was President. We're a service sorority." Being wealthy and overwhelmingly good-looking was, apparently, part of the service. Denial isn't just a river on some other planet. She smiles proudly, all the same. "Anyways, I guess we'll have to just go on thinking the other is gorgeous and too modest. And really? I'm not soo modest that I mind that a lot." She salutes the Marine with her juice, a little toast. To them!

Finished, needle pulled out and armed patched up, Madilyn slides off the table with easy grace. A second on her feet though, and she's blinking and wobbling a bit, reaching back to use the gurney for stability. "Well…guess I'm not as young as I like to think I am, hm?" she attempts to joke toward Bia, but in reality, her heart just isn't in it. "Thank you Lieutenant. I hope it helps, in some small way. And for what it's worth, you have my condolences. I know it's been said before, but sometimes it bears repeating. It's always sad yet somewhat reassuring to find a kindred spirit aboard." Bia gets a handshake, with the off-hand cupping the shaking hands, then Madilyn is off (slowly) to the sweet treats.

"A mind like yours from a weapons firm? I daresay the military could come up with a use for you," Hawke smiles. "If you ever feel like getting some of the feeling of home back, you and I could meet up sometime and stand around pretending to be interested in what the other has to say for an hour or so."

Malone nods a little bit, "Thanks," he replies, before he adds, "Let's hope the next time we meet won't be when I'm brought in here to get that blood put back into me." Spoken a bit lightly, as he starts heading off.

Sawyer lowers the camera with a smile to Cidra, "Can't be falling down on the job, now can I, Major? Besides, if that picture doesn't raise morale, I don't know what will. Top Brass, in the trenches with the enlisted, so to speak. Caption will be uplifting and light-hearted." She winds the film again, waiting for the familiar click. "Of course I'll donate too, while I'm here."

Aurola snickers lightly before she replies, "Well, I don't know, I doubt I could be very interesting for an hour." She smiles as she sits there, hand still pumping the thing as she relaxes in the bed. "I'm afraid my life is horribly dull these days. Need to find some kind of work to do, I suppose."

Rachel grins at Malone's back before turnign to the line and waing over Viae.

Stavrian got called off to help with a minor emergency. It's what always seems to happen to PAs. He returns to his station after a little while, grabbing antiseptic hand goop along the way that reeks of alcohol. Fresh pair of gloves grabbed up, he settles back down on his little rolling stool and signals to the line-wranglers up front. Station free, next.

Viae nods with a bright smile to Cidra. "Thank you, major, and yourself as well." is all she can get out before Rachel calls the young woman over. She hops up on the bed quietly and raises her right sleeve.

Oh my. Lunair nods along at that. "I see, that means you went to university then?" She considers. "What did you study?" She asks quietly. A smile and she gets some juice of her own. Lunair comes from wealth herself, but there's a more subdued and distant attitude towards it. "I lost a lot of weight when I joined the marines," Lunair admits. Alas, she was a fat camp candidate early on. "I suppose you're right," She smiles. "There is too much of modest, just as you can be too much anything else," A shrug and a toast/salute back. Good times! "Oh, there's lots of people here…" She looks over her shoulder.

The flash goes off and does so before Trask can have immortalized some gesture or another that might get even the CAG to roll her eyes. Not missing a beat, though, he tells Sawyer, "I'd tell you to get my good side, but we're in public." Briefly, he bats the lashes of his large, expressive, brown eyes. Back to the Specialist, then, "Lookin' forward to the harvest, Mercer." And as she's called off, he is also waved over, albeit to Stavrian's station. "If you gracious ladies will excuse me, I have some veins to submit for assault."

Rachel looks down at her new victim, no patient, whatever and crinkles her nose slightly. To make light of the situation she quirkily asks, "So come here often?"

Bia's there to offer a hand to Madilyn's upper arm at the first wobble, her coffee-coloured eyes suddenly quite intent. She's seen professional athletics crumple where tiny slips of girls have waltzed off unfazed. Blood donation, the great equalizer. When the woman steadies herself, she steps back easily and shakes her hand. It's a firm grip, the shake quick and professional. "Have you some cookies for your babies' sakes, Major. I do appreciate you took the time to help us." She turns back to the gurney, again re-prepping it for the next donor.

Hawke raises an eyebrow. "Truly? If you are interested?" He gestures around. "I am going to be recruiting people to teach the medical arts. We're a bit short staffed, as you can see, and it is important to pass on what we know. This could well become the last medical school in the universe. Would you be interested in that?"

Malone heads off for now, through the doors and out there.

Aurola nods her head lightly while she lays there before she replies, "Wouldn't mind it. Be nice to round out my eduction with something that can be a little more useful than knowing how a black hole works, or what kind of radiation is generated by pulsars."

Viae smiles as she gets comfortable. "Well, i certainly hope not. I'm hoping that this just won't get put back into me, but could help you with someone else."

Cidra inclines her head to Viae as the specialist goes off for draining. Her juice is finished in a long drink, and she offers a similar gesture to Trask and Sawyer as well. "That is for the good. More donations, that is. Every bit does help. Now, if you shall excuse me." With that she takes her leave of Sickbay and its resident vampires.

"Ahh well, with any luck you are right and sthis will be the only time you ever have to face my needle," Rachel answers after the strap is in place. She carefully inserts the needle and cover the open site before sitting back and looking down over the chart, "And where might you hail from?"

Stavrian gets the next set of collection paraphernalia set out, with the first capillary tube ready to go. His blue eyes lift as the ECO comes over, the shade nearly matching his scrubs top. "Bootstrap." One of few callsigns he bothers to remember. "Hey. How've you been?"

With a smile, Hawke leans over and gently removes the needle. "Think about it, will you? Meanwhile, hold a bandage here for a minute, and then head to the cookies. I'll speak to you more, later."

Psyche smirks faintly into a sip of juice, rubbing the back of her neck. "Fashion design, actually…" Her grin is sheepish. "I didn't exactly grow up wanting to be a pilot. But speaking of that…" she glances at the clock. "I'm supposed to be on CAP soonish, so I should mosey." She smiles brightly at Lunair. "It was nice meeting you!" She waves happily and scoots.

Bia finishes swapping the pouch of Madilyn's blood for an empty one and re-washes her hands before turning to look back at the dwindled lines. "Next, please," she calls, eyes and smile seeking out the last contestant — Sawyer.

Sawyer looks over to the empty spot in front of Bia, and the fact that she's next in the queue. "Guess that means I'm up." Her smile becomes a bit more pinched, in anticipation of being stuck. "You know, it's not the needles I'm afraid of, it's more the jabbing it into my perfectly fine body and adding a hole…" She comments off-handedly as she settles down by the Interim CMO, camera now blissfully idle against her chest.

"What? Nothing wrong with that. Design has lots of principles and well, you can't just slap things together," She points out. Lunair smiles at Psyche. "I mostly did history. But- be safe!" She waves at Psyche. Lunair will probably quietly root for her newfound pilot buddy. She finishes off her juice and looks around. Hmmm.

Donation made, Madilyn makes her way to the table. Cookies and juice can make even the COs smiley. Well, some of them at least; she happens to be one of them. A chair gets pulled out, nearish to Lunair and any other Marines that might be in attendance. Two cookies get placed on a napkin, and a cup of juice is poured to help with that lightheadedness.

Viae nods. "Oh, I'm from Canceron. One of the coastal resort towns." She says. "But I'm not half as interesting as most of the people here." She says with a smile.

"You know, I always find the ones who say they aren't interesting are the most," Rachel answers, setting the chart aside and looking at Viae. "I doubt you are any different. Tell me about it then?"

Aurola smiles and nods her head as she holds the bandage there. "Well, I'm sure I'll see you around at some point," she replies to Hawke, before getting up off the gurney to make her way over to the cookies, still with the four-step then pause walk.

And a Madilyn! Lunair turns towards her with a smile. She's on her second cookie, a chocolate chip. She doesn't take anything further though. "They are very kind to give us genuine cookies and not really the mess hall cookies," She jokes lightly and grins. She seems happy to see her CO though. In a quiet way. She tilts her head. "Are you alright?" She asks quietly.

Hawke nods to the patients, then stands. "Ok, I am going to get on some paperwork. I think we made some headway here, tonight," he says as he observes the various people being tended to. "Let's do it again!"

"Please, get you comfortable over here. This won't take barely a moment, and then you're free for the cookies." Bia turns her smile-crinkled gaze toward Sawyer as she approaches, and gestures to the gurney. "Hain't no perfectly fine body out there that won't heal a little blood-drawing in a few days' time, child. You'll be just fine. Have you given blood before?" She starts setting up some of the rigging between glances at the reporter's sheet of information.

By the time Trask makes himself at home in the corpsman's station, his duty shirt has has been unbuttoned and removed, revealing well-defined arms and shoulders covered in elaborate kirituhi tattoos. "Stavs," he replies with a small but amiable smile, going about the task of neatly folding the olive green garment to rest on his lap. "Alive," is the somewhat glib status report about how he's been. "Glad to see someone knew how to put you back together, again." That's earnest, even if he doesn't linger on it. The ECO sure as the Holocaust was in no position to tend the extent of Jesse's wounds that day in the hangar. "So, Saggie's choice," is breezed into, both arms extended so Stavrian can find a vein that is to his liking.

Viae shrugs. "It wasn't a big deal, honestly. We helped keep the resorts filled with the rich and famous Capricans, and we kept them working. My father was a fisherman and my mother was a teacher. I sung a bit. i got tired with the idea of answering to people who thought of you as property and well… I joined the Fleet… Yes.. Ironic, I know."

"Battered, not destroyed," Stavrian reports back as to that, managing about half a smile. It comes, it goes. "I'm glad you're still in one piece, yourself. I lost track of things while I was down, and…" He shakes his head, picking up the little fingerstick device and capillary tube. "That's dangerous to do." He takes one of Trask's hands, fitting the little sticking sleeve onto the man's index finger. "This'll sting." Which it does. Click. "Are you in lollipop withdrawal yet?"

Have a bite o'cookie, think a little, talk a little. That's how it goes sitting at the recovery table there. "Yes, quite nice of them. Of course, if they offered mess hall cookies, would you have willingly come to donate?" Madilyn's quite careful to emphasize the word willingly there. "To answer your question, yes Lieutenant, I'm alright. Merely a bit lightheaded, both from donating and from some things I haven't thought about in some time. It'll pass however. It always does." Still, she looks faraway though.

"Well, it's a different kind of life. Those were the kinds of towns I usually ended up in actually. Dad and Mum were both docs but we moved around a fair bit, always smaller places when they just got big enough to warrant their own hospital," Rachel answers, waiting for the blood to fill up the bag.

Everything seems pretty standard on Sawyer's sheet, if hastily filled out in a scrawl. Under current medications, there's a big '0' with a line drawn through it, and her blood type is boring old O+. "Once or twice. They used to have one of those mobile jobbies they used to park at the magazine and herd us all out." To aid Bia, she rolls up the cuff of her white blouse and exposes the crook of her arm. "Good thing I got you, doc. Your PA over there would have loved to jab me, I'm sure." Meaning Stavrian, but her grin softens the comment.

Aurola moves over to the recovery table, giving a small wave as she moves to stand there. "Hello," she says with a smile to everyone around it, before she nibbles on the cookie, slowly shaping it into a square as she stands there.

Viae nods. "We had a hospital nearby. We had to, in case any of the drunk visitors had an accident with their yacht." She smirks… "Or had a bad spray-tan accident." She nods. "So you did the opposite of me. You went into the family 'business'."

"Yeah, though the first one to sign up with the fleet," Rachel answers, finally standing up to remove the needle. Pressure is applied of course and then she has Viae hold on to it as she finished disposing of the tools. "So five minutes and then you are free to attack what remains of the cookies, but only as long as you aren't lightheaded."

Hmm. Lunair considers Madilyn a moment and smiles, then nods. "Yes sir," She replies, "I owe them after last time I had a few holes blasted in me." While it is joking, she does feel some obligation to help. "… if you're sure," Lunair frowns a little, she seems unsure of that answer. But it's probably best not to poke too hard at one's CO. She is finishing off her snack and looking around. "I met someone kind from the Air wing." Apparently when light headed, Lunair's eyes glaze and she rambles. Oh dear.

Viae nods and sits up. "Thanks. Hopefully you can put that to good use… and it was a good thing that the Fates guided you here to us."

"Root munchers, dirt eaters, sheep frakkers… we're all built tough." So says the dirt eater to the root muncher. "You get the mints I left for you?" The ECO swung by the makeshift sickbay to check-up on a few people. Presumably, the medic was good and conked-out. When Stavrian opts for a hand instead of an arm, Trask indicates to use the right one. Southpaw's prerogative. When the finger gets pricked, his nose crinkles and he drily says, "Ow." When asked about lollipops, he cheekily replies, "Oh, baby, only you can give me what I need. Sweet… hard candy… on a stick… bluer than Doc Hawke's balls." Beat. Furrowed brow. "Is that even possible?"

Bia moves through the blood-drawing prep for a third time this evening, taking Sawyer's arm gently in warm, work-roughened hands to swab the seam of her elbow. "Mister Jesse? Aw, he's a sweet boy, Miss. Hain't yet imagined the sort of folk to make him be cruel. I'm sure you couldn't be the one, neither. Just a pinch, here. Easy. There." Her soft drawl rolls along, barely pausing as she slips the needle in. "I sure do appreciate you taking the time to help us out here. You're a photographer, then?"

Just off the shift that never ends, or perhaps on a little break before rejoining her fellow morlocks down in the belly of this great beast called Cerberus, Penelope wanders in. She looks a little sleep-deprived, but at least aware of her surroundings, as evidenced by a general, "Still taking blood, here? I'm full of platelets and ready to go." She smirks and glances at Trask. "Entirely possible, I think. If that's your best rap, you're headed there."

Rachel kind of quirks a smile. She's not the most religious person out there, "Well good for me I'm still kicking around."

Viae smiles and nods, thanking the good doctor once again when her time is up and she makes it over to the cookie table. not one to dwell on sweets, she just grabs some juice to help re-stabilize herself.. no need to pass out as soon as you leave the bulkhead.

"That's good Lieutenant. I hope you have a lovely conversation, really." When Madilyn talks this time, she puts her hand to her chin and rubs a bit, still thinking. One cookie eaten, half the juice gone, Madilyn stands from the table. "Take an extra ten minutes before the start of your next shift, since you came to donate," she offers to Lunair, before making for the hatch and getting some other things she had planned for off-duty hours taken care of.

"Tch." At the ow. Stavrian gives Trask a faint smirk and then looks back down, letting the capillary tube fill with enough droplets. He twists his back, sliding the tube into the centrifuge for its quick little spinaround into hematocrit-measuring land. One dark brow goes up at the description of Hawke, which is his damndest not to look amused. It fails, moreso than it usually does. "You could put it more respectfully and say 'his balls have fashion sense'. I mean…" He plucks at the front of his blue scrubs. Matches, dogg. The centrifuge beeps and he glances at it. Yup, good to go. Blood pressure cuff retrieved, he rolls the stool closer to get at Trask's arm. "I didn't get any mints though," he says, arching a brow. "Someone must have spirited them away…bah. But thanks anyway." He glances up at Penelope as he gets the cuff onto Trask, lifting his chin. "Hey, LT."

Sawyer tilts her head up and away from inevitable needle poke. "What can I say, I bring out the best in people." Referring back to Stavrian. Sawyer's lips flatten out at the pinch of the needle, but otherwise she seems fine, if keeping her gaze averted. "I'm a journalist, actually. But I learned to be my own photographer some time ago, who knew it would come in handy. Now if I could just dredge up an editor and a publisher, I'd be in business, right?"

Aurola finishes nibbling the cookie into a square as no one seems to want to say hi back to her, and she just shrugs her shoulders a little. Popping the square she made into her mouth before she grabs another cookie to nibble in to another square, only pausing to take a sip of juice between things. Listening to the conversations that drift past her ears.

"Ah! Thaat's really nice of you," Lunair smiles. "Although she left- so I can get back now," She seems eager to please at least and scampers off herself after Madilyn. She waves to the medical staff and Sawyer in passing.

Stavrian gets a warm smile from Penelope, taking some of the edge off her weariness, at least to look at her. "Hallo, Doc," she greets in return. She is, alas, one of those intractable characters who refuses to acknowledge the man is NOT a doctor, no matter how many times she's told. She tilts her head at one of the check-in stations (where the lines are no longer), picking up a clipboard and peering at the questions. "Have I ever wha' with a — seriously?" She blows out a breath and picks up a pen. "Can I just claim to've been raised by wolves and skip — no, shite, that's on here, too…"

"As long as I have a working hand attached to a working arm, Henny Penny, I'm headed for a happy ending." Trask has a way with being nonchalantly lewd in a completely non-lascivious manner. "If you turn out to be a lucky penny, Penny, maybe you can ride shotgun." To Stavrian, he remarks, "When am I ever respectful?" Har. Har. The mint theft, however, he appears to take quite seriously, eyes narrowing in a mild display of irritation. "Sorry, man. I should've gotten the name of the frakker I left 'em with. If I see 'im, I'll remind 'im they weren't his." Taurian-style.

"My sister Etie used to say that." The look Bia turns to Sawyer is more fond than sad. It's a good memory that she's thinking of, right now. "I'll tell you the same thing I was always tellin' her. Take you a praline along, next time you know you're about to be a burr in someone's britches. Hain't many souls out there that stay cranky on a mouthful of sweets." She looks away from the reporter to the steadily-filling pouch, then clicks her pen and makes a small note on Sawyer's paperwork.

Penelope glances up from the questionnaire, eyes conferring with her hairline momentarily over Trask's offer. "T-Bone, my dainty duck, if there's a shotgun involved, I can guarantee you casualties." Whether she'll be removing his working arm with it or putting herself out of her misery — both work.

Stavrian gives Penelope an amused look, the amusement all in twitched eyes rather than on his lips. Getting this man to smile is one hell of a task. Looking back at Trask, he shakes his head. "If they ate them and had a time of it, I don't mind. Just means you still owe me." He clicks his teeth and gives the ECO a mild wink, cuff inflating as he squeezes up the bulb. A glance at the gauge for the reading. Hypertension, Kal?

Sawyer mmms quietly, "Unfortunately, pralines are hard to come by and I'd have to open up a candy shoppe just to support the amount of sweet… teeth? Toothes? …we're talking here. Mind if I get a copy of that paperwork when we're through? Just something to prove that I bleed red?" Sawyer quips right back at the Interim CAG, talking while her blood is pumped from her veins.

Hypertension? [ ] Yes [X] No. Trask is built Tauron tough. Strong like bull. Plus, facetiousness might be a great stress deterrent. "Kinky," he tells Penelope, as if that one word said in /that/ way completely obliterated the intent of what she just said. Being brazen has its perks. "If I owe you anything," is explained to Jesse, "it's not 'cuz some frakker ate your gift." It's because Stavrian thwarted Major Frakshitinsane more than a month ago. That, and the guy is awesome.

Aurola finishes nibbling another cookie into a square, before that one too is swallowed and she takes another drink of her juice. Stretching a little, as she peeks at the band-aid and lifts it up to see if she's stopped bleeding. Regardless of what she may have seen, she reaches for another cookie, this one getting nibbled into a square as well.

"No problem at all, Miss. Any paperwork that comes through here stays in our system. All you ever need do is ask one of our clerks for a copy. I'll make a note you're wanting one sooner'n later." Which Bia does, right there and then, the tiny and impeccably-tidy letters added along the side of Sawyer's form. "Found your way to the Cerberus through QUODEL? We had ourselves a military reporter back at Fort Lubudu, but if'n you don't mind me saying, you don't seem the same sort one bit."

No hypertension. All ur vein are belong to Stavrian. The cuff's left inflated to make sure that delectable line of royal blue blood stays palpable, and he picks up the needle and its tubing. "You really don't owe me anything, Kal." This might be obvious from the PA's point of view, but he says it anyway. And seriously. "How is that Captain doing? That one that always looks like she wants to get me with roach spray."

"Oh, you can scarcely imagine," Penelope agrees with Trask, not looking up from her paperwork this time, tone dry as an Aerilonian dirt farm. She perks her eyebrows over another question, snorting softly before checking off what's apparently a decisive 'no.' She hands the clipboard to one of the nurses doing intake. "Paris. P-A-R-I-S not P-A-R-R-E-S. Penelope. Lieutenant. Engineering."

Sawyer was mostly kidding about the copy of the paperwork, but she just doesn't have it in her heart to tell Bia that. Who knew Journalists have hearts? "They usually assign the most grizzled reporters to the military assignments, and I hadn't really earned cigar and brandy privileges yet when I got dumped on board. I'd like to think I'm holding my own though, even if it is just a delusion."

"Hey, just because you were just doin' your job doesn't warrant dismissal." Not to Trask, anyhow. "'sides, I figure we're even, what with how I engage Cylooooons iiiiiin Spaaaaace." Said like what one would expect in the trailer of a bad B-movie. "Jugs?" The Captain in question. "She's a trooper. Don't let 'er accent fool you." Loaded statement, that. "She's tough." Easily, he then lobs back to the engineer, "Do you at least skin the sheep first, or do you utilize the wool right there on the carcass?" This is why one should not feed the troll encourage Trask.

"You're doing fine enough to be here helping out the rest of the crew, child. From where I'm standing? I think that means you're pullin' yourself along a far cry better'n most." Bia turns a motherly sort of proud smile down at Sawyer, asking, "Could you make a fist for me, five times, slow, please? We're nearly finished."

Penny slides her hands into her pockets, adopting a lean against the wall as she awaits her turn. She considers Trask bemusedly for a moment, then says to Stavrian, "He's at least got a useful blood type, right? Maybe you could just keep taking it. Just so he's only got enough to one run system at a time."

Sawyer pumps her hand slowly as instructed, trying to eke out the last little bit to fill that magical quota. "If only my motives were pure." With her other hand she nudges her camera a bit. "I'm also working, remember? What do you think of the headline 'Crew Rallies. Medical Tallies'?" Barely a pause. "Yeah, it needs a bit of work, but I'm lightheaded, so what can you say?"

"Any time there's an article on blood-drives that hain't no mention of 'a drop in a bucket', I consider it a small victory for our folks here, child." Bia's eyes warm from her maternal look to amusement. "You keep that phrase out of your work, and I'll be plenty happy with whatever else you see fit to write. A moment, here. Perfect." The needle's slipped out, a cotton-ball pressed immediately to the spot. She sets to taping the wad of cotton in place with a band-aid a few seconds later, then steps back to give Sawyer room to stand. "Easy standing, now."

"Never doubted that," Stavrian says, as to Quinn's toughness. The Cylons iiiin spaaaace bit almost gets him to smile — real close, holy crap — but then right as he's got Trask all set up to drain he gets summoned again. By someone waving their arms. Obviously a Level 3 Minor Emergency this time, which drags him up off the stool. "Nurse'll watch your collection here, Kal. I'll bring you some lollipops later, okay?" Already backing up, he turns to head off. Super Ridiculous Problems Man, away!

Sawyer eases her feet to the floor, taking a moment to make sure she's got her footing and that her knees won't buckle. Satisfied that the room isn't going to spin and stars aren't going to appear, the Journalist gives a little nod. "Alright, doc. I think I'm good to go. Draw a smiley face on that bag for me, so the next bloke that gets it can see it. Thanks." The last is a bit of a mumble, and Sawyer shuffles off, a little less sure on her high heels now then she was coming in.

Oooookay, Jesse. A blink. That's pretty much Kal's reply. This is the military, though, and he's a lifer, so he just rolls with it. "No worries. Good luck." And as Stavrian starts to dash off, Trask idly adds, "They don't even have to be blue." The lollipops, that is. Bootstrap is easy-going like that.

Penelope reaches a bit deeper into her pocket, drawing out a small and crinkly cellophane bag. The contents are, apparently, tiny gourmet jellybeans. She roots through them a moment, then offers two deep blue ones to Trask. "Here. These should tide you over."

"Take you a cookie or two and some juice, Miss. We've got tea-dippers and chocolate chip, long as nobody's made off with 'em all just yet." Bia calls this toward the retreating Sawyer, then turns yet again to the gurney, preparing it for the next donor.

Sawyer makes a quick pass of the snack table, quirking a grin at the square-cookie-nibbling Aurola, and then shuffling on her way out to where ever it is rogue Journalists hole up around here.

Aurola finishes nibbling on her third cookie, she finishes off her juice before the young woman stretches and begins to head towards the exit, maybe intending to find something to focus on, giving a nod to Sawyer at the grin.

"How sweet of you to ensure that I'm not left blue over a lack of blue." It's wryly spoken, but Trask appreciates Penelope's gesture. It still doesn't prevent him from cheekily opening his mouth so she can hand-feed him. Scampish as ever, his expressive brown eyes convey a faux helplessness, as though he is simply too weak from blood loss to feed himself.